Are you upset?
by Noodlenugget
Summary: A wannabe mangaka and the student council vice-president. Not the most compatible pair, but appearances can be deceiving.
1. Chapter 1

Popuko usually didn't like school, but art class was an exception. For an hour a day, she was able to put paintbrush to paper, creating a little piece of her that would last forever. She loved drawing, she adored painting and (When it didn't get under her nails) she could endure modelling clay. Limited only by her imagination, Popuko saw art as an excuse to dive into her mind and create something amazing.

But like everything in life, it wasn't perfect.

Every time art class began, she had to sit next to _her._ Pipimi: Student council vice-president, Straight-A student and general goodie-goodie. Every few minutes, she would lean over and whisper in her ear.

"Popuko, can I borrow a pencil?"

"Popuko, isn't this still life? Why does your fruit have emoji faces?"

"Popuko, stop hogging the blue paint."

To make matters worse, people would always come over and gawk at Pipimi's art skills. At least once per class, some dumbass would come over to call her work a masterpiece, barely glancing her own. Just the thought of that sub-culture bitch getting all the attention made her blood boil.

And whenever Popuko's art was noticed, it was for all the wrong reasons. For some bizarre reason, Mr Okawa did not share her taste for creativity. That was why she was staying after class to talk some sense into him.

"But it does look like Pipimi!" Popuko complained, holding up her picture. "See?"

The ageing art teacher let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, but you were meant to draw realistically, not in a manga style."

The assignment that day had been still life: Everyone had to pick a partner and draw them as they saw them. Popuko, having been stuck with Pipimi, had drawn her with massive eyes, a mouth shaped like a '3' and a giant head the shape of an eraser. Apparently, that wasn't good enough. At least she'd used the right shade of blue for her eyes and hair. And who was he kidding, that bow _was_ huge!

"I was just being creative…" The girl said. "That's what art is, right?"

Mr Okawa opened his mouth, only to close it again. He took the picture from her and placed it back on the drying rack.

"Just try and follow directions better next time," He muttered. "Popuko, you can go home now."

Popuko wasn't one to back down from a fight. Had this been any other day, she would have kept going and insist her work was good enough. Fortunately for her teacher, she had something she had to do.

_Sometimes_, she thought to herself. _Ya gotta let the small stuff go._

That didn't stop her from flipping him off behind his back.

When Popuko left the classroom, she found Pipimi just down the hall. A herd of idiots had gathered around her. The small girl stomped down the hallway, trying her best to ignore them. Unfortunately, the closer she got, the harder it was to drown them out.

"Senpai!" Cried a love-sick dumbass. "Please go out with me!"

Pipimi smiled at him but shook her head.

"I'm flattered," she said. "But no thank you."

"Pipimi-chan," A girl said to her. "Wanna come shopping with me?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. There's a council meeting today."

Even her voice drove Popuko mad. With a pitch that perfect, she sounded like the protagonist of some idol anime. Not to mention she had perfect skin, long azure hair and eyes that sparkled in the sun. No wonder everyone worshipped her. It almost made Popuko ashamed of her tiny frame and blonde hair. She swallowed a lump of jealousy and darted past the group. As fun as it would be to see more casuals be shut-down, she had work to do.

* * *

Once she was down the stairs, Popuko ducked beneath the staircase and sat down. Sheltered from the outside world, she pulled a large black folder from her bag. Inside was a collection of 4-panel manga she had drawn herself. Just seeing the fruits of her labour was enough to lift her mood.

"Right…" The artist muttered. "Today's the day."

Takeshobo middle school was fairly prestigious: it was one of the few in the area that had its own weekly newsletter, after all. Popuko always picked one up, but not for the football team's successes or to find out who got the best test scores. When she bought one, it was always for the comic strips.

Last week, the guy who drew them had retired to focus on exams. That left an opening for a new mangaka to take the stage. With the deadline being in just a few hours, Popuko flipped open her folder and looked over her work. They had asked for just three 4-panel comic strips, which left her with a problem. Each of her drawings held a little piece of her heart within; how the hell was she supposed to pick just three?

"Oh well…" She sighed, flipping through her work. "Didn't some old guy say you gotta suffer for your art?"

Most of her manga starred a chibi version of herself, complete with huge eyes and an unchanging smile. Just like the artist, she had a pair of golden pigtails, had a short, stubby frame and was wearing a typical middle-school uniform. Unlike her real-life counterpart, however, this Popuko was always having crazy adventures. Sometimes she'd be the star of a 4-D experience. Other times, she was calling for a superhero to bitch on Twitter. No matter what, she always made plenty of anime references and swore like a sailor. In other words, she was unique: You didn't see other manga girls doing this sort of thing.

After much searching, Popuko decided on the lucky trio. She chose the ones about the god of slacking, her chibi-self sliding down a handrail and a strip about talking bacon.

Perfect.

"I've got this in the bag," She chuckled. "Those casuals won't know what hit 'em!"

From above her came the sound of footsteps. Popuko held her breath. They struck the ceiling of her hidey-hole, then petered away. If a teacher found out she was sitting here, they'd probably punish her for loitering. It was only when they'd vanished that she left herself breathe. Then, she gathered up her materials and headed to the magazine club-room.

* * *

Popuko had taken the time to prepare for her interview. Her uniform had been tidied, her hair was brushed, and her lips cleared of any snack crumbs. A sea of premonition swept through her brain and her heart began to pound. She wasn't even sure why she was so nervous: there was no way she could fail!

At least, she thought so.

The door was answered by a small boy with glasses. He motioned her in without a word and sat down at a desk. Popuko sat in front of him, fingers drumming against her folder.

_Don't pussy out now! _Her inner badass screamed. _It's all or nothing!_

"I'm here for the comic strip position," She said calmly. "I've brought some samples."

And before the boy could ask, she had already spread the three comic strips over the table. The boy adjusted his glasses and looked over the first one.

"Pop…Team Epic?" He muttered. "That's an… Interesting name."

She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. The boy's face was like a piece of wood: totally unchanging and impossible to read. If it wasn't for his lips moving, she'd be sure he was wearing a mask.

"Thanks," She said, regardless. "I hope ya enjoy them."

Time passed. The boy was still looking over her work. Popuko sat there, trying her best not to falter. Why wasn't he saying anything? Was he trying to suppress a laugh?

"So… Watcha think?" Popuko said, folding her arms. "Is it good enough for ya?"

An air of confidence was a good thing; he'd take her more seriously than if she was a blubbering, pleading mess. Wimps like that got nowhere in life.

"Hmmm…"

The boy took off his glasses and peered over the manga again. He scratched his chin thoughtfully and shook his head.

"I'm sorry…" He muttered. "But I'm not sure we can run this."

Popuko felt like she'd been punched in the face. A thick fear clenched her neck, choking her.

"Ex…Excuse me?" She squealed, fists clenched tightly in her lap.

"The school won't let us use these," The boy explained. He pointed to the first strip, the one with the slack-off god. His finger lay on the panel where Popuko was flipping him off. "This is just… Kinda vulgar."

"That's… That's the whole point!" Popuko yelled. "It's supposed to be different! It's supposed to be fresh! You don't see other manga doing stuff like that!"

She stood up quickly and banged her fists on the table. The resulting shockwave sent her work to the floor. All those hours spent working, all those nights staying up to draw… For nothing? How could that casual be so selfish?

"Th-The school board will shut this down the moment we print it…" The boy whimpered. His glasses had almost fallen off his face, which had grown slippery with sweat. "It's… It's inappropriate… And I don't really get it."

Popuko could have done multiple things. She could have yelled at him, shoved the pieces of paper down his throat, demanded to speak to the club leader… But for some reason, she didn't feel like fighting. The boy's comments had been drilled into her mind and had now taken root.

"Is… Is it really that bad?"

She was still shaking, fists clenched and ready to let fly. In an effort to control herself, she sat back down. The boy let out a sigh (Of relief or exhaustion, she didn't know) and adjusted his glasses.

"I'm sorry. We can't run these," He repeated.

Defeated and shamed, Popuko gathered her work and slid them into back her folder. She stood up and wandered to the door. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she didn't want him to see her cry; she wanted to leave with just a little bit of dignity. After she slid the door open, she clenched her fists and forced some tears back.

"Thanks for your time, I guess…"

And before he could reply, she slipped through the crack and slammed the door shut.

* * *

It wasn't until she was back under the stairs that she let herself cry. Her uniform sleeve was soggy, weighed down with her tears. Tucked away within her sanctuary, Popuko looked over her drawings. Each of them, despite their simplistic style, had taken hours of time. Hours she could never get back.

_Those haters… Those casual, stupid haters! Every single one of them!_

Swallowing a sob, Popuko took a deep breath. Mangaka had to face rejection all the time, right? If anything, she was just getting it out of the way! It was their loss for not choosing her; no one would read the newsletter now!

"Hehehe… Stupid sub-culture bitches…"

Her laugh was a low and rumbling trill. It echoed through her secret base, spreading to just outside her sanctuary. With her sadness drained away, there was nothing inside the girl but righteous anger. She stared at the wall, her fists clenching again. With nothing to lose, she drew back and punched the hard brick wall.

_THUNK!_

It didn't hurt. Any pain was cushioned by a pillow of hatred. With adrenaline driving her onwards, Popuko punched the bottom of the stairs, not intent on stopping until either her hand broke or the wall did.

_THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!_

Unfortunately, the human body only had so much energy to spare. With Popuko's small frame, it wasn't long before she was kneeling by the wall, panting. Once air was back in her lungs, she looked over at the wall. She hadn't even dented it.

"Dammit…" She whimpered to herself. "Damn… Damn it all!"

Staying here wasn't doing her any good. With all her energy gone and eyes dry, she slid the folder into her school bag and crawled out from her den.

It was only then that she saw her.

There, standing right outside her entrance, was Pipimi.

_Well, fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

Popuko was at a loss. Her mortal enemy had seen her huddled under the stairs, punching the wall and/or crying her eyes out. She had no energy to be angry, yet too proud to be sad. What the hell was she supposed to feel here?

_Maybe if I stay still, she'll just go away…_

With that in mind, Popuko stared at the elder girl, only moving to remove a stray tear. Even after half a minute, the elder girl showed no signs of moving.

"Popuko-san, are you all right?"

There it was: that melodic, perfectly-pitched voice she hated so much. With a snort, the smaller girl folded her arms and narrowed her yellow eyes.

"How much did you see?" She snapped.

"I saw enough."

_What kind of answer is that?_ Popuko thought. _If you saw me cry, go ahead and say it!_

"Did something happen?" Pipimi asked.

Popuko shot the girl an icy glare. If she wasn't going to move of her own accord, she'd have to make her. The last thing she wanted was a pity party.

"What's it to ya?" She said. "It's n-none of your…"

_Crap, I stuttered!_

At that moment, all chances of intimidating her fell flat. What kind of badass stammered her threats?

"What I do I-Is… I mean… Uh…"

The tears were coming back, this time with company. No matter how many times she blinked, they kept on coming. She couldn't let them out. She couldn't let Pipimi see them. But if she stayed here, then surely…

"Oh, forget it!"

Popuko turned on her heel and broke into a run. Despite her tiny legs, she could move quickly when she had the right motivation. And if this wasn't a battle to run from, she didn't know what was.

"H-Hey! Wait!"

Pipimi's voice shot down the hall and into her eardrums. Popuko took that as a sign to pick up the pace. She zoomed down the hall and jumped down another flight of stairs. All her aggression was pumped to her legs, spikes of adrenaline sending her onward. She couldn't stop, she wouldn't stop. Not until she was home and could pretend all this never happened…

* * *

It was about halfway through her run that her body gave in. Her legs felt like they were about to collapse and her lungs were begging for breath. Popuko complied and bent over, trying to catch a single breath of oxygen. No matter how strong her will, she couldn't move another step. When her heartbeat slowed, she realised she had stopped right next to an empty playground. The sun was already setting, spreading beams of orange over the equipment. It was quiet, the only sound being that of her own breath.

"Hah…Hah… Dammit…" She panted.

Popuko was sweating like a pig, her legs were aching, and she felt like she could faint at any moment. But at the very least, she had escaped Pipimi. Once she had her breath back, she would go home and fake an illness for the next two days. That would give her enough time to recover from her trauma. With a grin, she stumbled into the playground. It took the last of her energy to haul herself onto the tunnel-den. It was a large dome, full of holes for little kids to climb through, clearly not designed to be sat on. Nonetheless, it was warm from the sunlight and in a quiet spot. If nothing else, she could sit for a while.

"Geez… The shit I have to put up with…" Popuko sighed, throwing her bag off her shoulder. "At least I…"

At that moment, time seemed to stop. Her bag was wide open; she must have forgotten to zip it closed earlier. That meant that while she was running like a madman down the street…

"Oh no…" She whimpered, digging through her bag. "Oh god, please no…"

Her folder full of drawings was missing. Not content with rejecting her dream, perhaps God had orchestrated her to lose the work entirely. Her work was apparently so bad, it had offended the heavens. Too tired to scream, Popuko made do with lying back and flipping off the sky.

"What a shitty god…"

A little part of her wished for death: perhaps a nice spear to the heart. Without her art or dream, was life even worth living anymore?

"Popuko? Popuko!"

A familiar sound echoed through the park. Popuko didn't even bother to look up. She hadn't asked the girl to follow her, so why should she give her a warm welcome?

"Go away!" She spat, over her shoulder. "I don't wanna see ya!"

Regardless of her words, the sound of footsteps came closer. Then they stopped. Soon enough, Pipimi was leaning over her, eclipsing the sun.

"Thank goodness. I finally caught up…" She muttered in-between breaths.

"What do you want?" Popuko asked, arms folded like a spoilt child.

"You dropped this," the other girl said softly, holding up the missing folder. "I thought you might like it back."

Popuko's heart skipped a beat. In one swift movement, she leapt up and grabbed her bounty, clutching it tightly to her chest. Her eyes reluctantly met Pipimi's, then looked down at the plastic platform.

"Thanks, I guess…" She muttered. "How'd you find me?"

"I chased after you."

The smaller girl wasn't sure what to think. Her classmate, someone she took special care not to talk to, had chased her out of the school just to hand back her artwork? That couldn't be right; there had to be an ulterior motive.

"Why?"

Pipimi looked confused.

"Why what?"

"Why did you do all this for me? We're not even friends!"

The words came out a little sharper than she'd meant them to. It wasn't that she was ungrateful; Pipimi had just saved her skin after all. No, what irked her was why someone she ignored would do this for her.

"Because it was the right thing to do," Pipimi said. "I couldn't leave you alone when you were at your lowest."

"But… But I hated you!" Popuko screamed. "I never liked you! I was always rude to you, and scoffed at your work… I just… I just don't understand!"

She wasn't crying, though part of her wanted to. Frustrated and confused, Popuko looked away, anything to avoid looking at the oh-so-perfect girl in front of her.

"You're always top of the class, you're popular… Why are you wasting your time with me?"

Her rant finished, Popuko looked down at the green, plastic den. A long silence followed. Had Pipimi gone home? Had she left her, mid-speech? Reluctantly, the smaller girl peered upwards The blue-haired beauty was still there, staring at the large folder.

"Because I think I know what happened."

"What?"

Pipimi let out a long breath and wrung her hands. Popuko, her interest now perked, leaned in closer.

"I saw you leave the newspaper club room. If I had to guess, you were trying to get your manga in the newsletter, right?"

Popuko's mouth opened. Then it closed. So, she had seen more than she'd let on! Still, there was no use denying it.

"Yeah…" She sighed, forcing the words out her gullet. "They're just casuals. They didn't get it…"

"Can I have a look?"

Popuko's body grew cold. Her arms wrapped tightly around her folder, pushing it close to her chest. Usually, she wouldn't be so protective; her artwork longed to be set free, to be seen. But what if her audience didn't like it? There was no way someone as proper and mature as her would understand. Popuko wasn't sure she could take two rejections in one day.

But then again, she owed her one. If all those drawings had been lost…

"Fine, just a quick look, OK?" She muttered, pushing it towards the girl before she could stop herself.

Pipimi took it gratefully and flipped open the first page. Popuko's heart skipped a beat.

"Pop Team Epic?"

"Yeah. Cool name, right?"

she moved beside her audience, just so she could read her face. Any warning of hate and she could make a run for it.

The two looked down at the first page. A miniature version of Popuko lay on the ground, slacking off and reading a book. In the next panel, a winged man in a tatty gown fluttered towards her, complete with a spotlight.

"I be the god of idlin'… And ya show some promise," He said. "What do you say? Why don't ya follow me an' become a god of idlin'?"

The pair looked down to the final panel, in which Chibi-Popuko had done the unthinkable. She had flipped a god off.

"Forget it! Too much fuckin' trouble! FOOOOL!"

Popuko looked over at Pipimi. Her hand was over her mouth, laughter escaping through her fingers.

"This is… I can't believe you just flipped off a god!" She chuckled. "I was not expecting that!"

"Th…Thank you…" Popuko muttered, rubbing the back of her head. _God, I feel like such a tsundere… _She thought to herself.

"Can I read some more?"

"Go ahead!"

And with that, Pipimi turned the page.

A strange man was doing something called "Extreme bike sitting", which seemed to involve falling onto a bike seat from an incredible height. Before he could land, however, Popuko removed the saddle. The man still fell to the bike…

Only to get a metal rod shoved up his rear.

Pipimi sat there for a moment, mouth wide open. Her delicate body began to shake. She screwed up her lips like she'd just bitten into a lemon.

Then, without warning, she exploded with laughter. Her body shivering with joy, she lay back on the den. Her hand was soon slapping against the plastic, loud thuds filling the once-empty air.

"Bwahahaha… Oh god… Oh god… My sides!"

She was no longer the uptight girl that Popuko knew. She had been transformed into a wild animal, controlled only by her impulses. And right now, those impulses were telling her to laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh some more.

"Y…You really like it?" Popuko asked.

Pipimi regained enough self-control to sit upright. She wiped her mouth free of drool and let out a deep sigh.

"Sorry about that. I just… Got a little carried away."

"Eh, no biggie," Popuko said. "You saw me crying after all, right? We'll just call it even."

"Thank you," Pipimi sighed. "It's just… I've never seen anything like this before. It's so different from the manga I usually read."

"So, you're a fan, huh? That makes you the first."

"First so far," Pipimi corrected. "You should post this online. It's really good!"

"You're… Not just saying that to be nice, are you? I see people flocking to you every day in art class…"

Pipimi shook her head. Strands of blue waved in the wind before she pushed them back into position.

"I know. To be honest, they're kind of a nuisance. They just wanna be friends with me because they think I'm perfect. It's exhausting; it means I can't really be myself." She let out a long sigh and stretched her arms. "I mean, your art is so much more creative than mine. I just paint by numbers, while you add all sorts of fun stuff to your paintings. You don't even care if you get in trouble for it, you just keep going."

It could have been her, but Popuko thought Pipimi looked almost... deflated. Like the air that kept her upright was rapidly draining from her.

"Then, why don't ya? A scolding or two's not the end of the world!"

"It's not that simple…" Pipimi sighed. "When you're in the student council, everyone expects you to be perfect. You're like…" She paused for a moment, hands waving aimlessly. "A symbol. Everyone expects you to be perfect and be on your best behaviour. You never get to let loose like in your manga…

Popuko crossed her arms and nodded. Her face twisted into that of a wise old man's.

"I see…" She said, deepening her voice. "And do you know what I do to people like that? This!"

In one swift movement, Popuko had flipped her arms over and extended both middle fingers to the sky. Pipimi looked ashen.

"Give it a try!"

So, with shaking hands, the other girl copied her. Her middle fingers slowly extended, soon forming the familiar sign. It wasn't long until the pair were in another fit of giggles.

"See, ain't that better?" Popuko said. "I know plenty of foreign swears too. Wanna hear some?"

"You bet!"

The rest of the afternoon drifted by in a sea of swearing and manga-reading. By the time the sun vanished, Pipimi had ten new words under her belt, not one of them non-vulgar. Popuko, meanwhile, had just gained a new friend and her first fan. Perhaps there was a benevolent god after all...


	3. Chapter 3

**POP TEAM EPIC CHAPTER 3**

Popuko couldn't get the day's events out of her head. First, she'd been rejected, her dreams having been stomped on by cruel reality. Then she'd made friends with her arch nemesis and taught her to swear. And now the girl was stuck in her head like a piece of old gum. When she ate her dinner, she wondered what Pipimi was eating. When she had her evening bath, she thought about if Pipimi was more of a shower person. Even when she was tucked within her bed, she couldn't sleep. Thoughts of kind words and blue eyes crowded her mind.

_Dammit… _Popuko thought to herself. _What was with that girl, anyway?_

No matter how much she yelled, Pipimi had never gotten upset. Any person with half their sanity would have backed off but she had the compassion to chase her down the street and not only hand back her artwork, then actually read it? It could, of course, just be a case of her pretending to be nice. She was the vice-president after all, she had to keep the students in her corner. But then she remembered the look on her face when she'd told her sob-story. There was no way anyone outside the drama club could pull something that convincing. It was the first time Popuko had ever seen her frown. Just the thought of it made her heart twist in pain. No matter her intention, Pipimi had been there for her. She could have been dating some dumbass from the track team or doing her homework, but she'd chosen to stay with her.

There was no getting around it: Pipimi had been nice to her. And Popuko wasn't sure how to feel about that.

She was a loner, which in this situation, acted as a double-edged sword. She didn't have many friends, so the addition of a companion was a welcome one. Everyone else at school kept their distance; rumours of her explosive temper spread like wildfire. Usually, Popuko wouldn't mind. Most of the student body were idiots who clung to the latest trend just to be popular.

But then there was Pipimi.

Popuko was more than a little out of practice when it came to social skills. What if she scared her new friend off? Then she would be alone again. That afternoon of laughter and understanding would be for nought. Swept under the rug of life.

"Urgh… I can't sleep like this!"

She switched on her lamp and sat at her desk. Reaching into the little drawer to her right, Popuko retrieved a piece of paper and a sharp pencil. She had to draw something: that would take her mind off of things. Quickly, she drew the first thing that came to mind: A large eraser-shaped head. Long blue hair draped down the back, with a large red bow on top. Before she knew it, Popuko had already added a pair of giant eyes and a sideways 3. A big-headed Pipipmi stared at her through the page. Even with the simplistic smile, she had an air of maturity and wisdom. She decided not to colour it: She didn't have the shade of blue to do her hair justice and if there was one thing Popuko hated, it was a half-assed picture. Even back when she hated the girl's guts, she had still put 110% into drawing her in art class. Not that anyone had noticed.

Not satisfied with a single frame, the artist got to work. A Pipimi army soon crowded the page, each in a different over-the-top pose. One Pipimi was playing a large drum. Another shot an 'Aura cannon' from her hands. But the one she liked best was the Pipimi in the middle. This one was flipping the bird with both hands, a teeny-tiny Popuko by her side.

And that's when the girl got an idea. Inspiration was a fickle thing: She had to strike now, while the iron was hot! Pencil in hand, Popuko soon got to work, drawing a quartet of panels. Somehow, she knew she wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

* * *

"Fuck".

Another page was crumpled up and thrown into the wastepaper basket. It bounced off its brethren and fell to the floor.

Popuko had now been up for three hours. During that time, she had taken two bathroom breaks, swore at least fifty times and thrown away a snowstorm of paper. The eraser by her side had gone unused: It was old and would leave dark marks behind. Popuko would be damned if her art was anything less than perfect.

_No wonder so many mangaka take up smoking. This is fucking ridiculous…_

She was down to her final sheet of paper. She had four hours until she had to be up for school. It was all or nothing. Full-on Rock n' roll.

Ruler in hand, Popuko drew out four identical borders. Trial and error had given her enough insight to know the perfect layout for the characters so all that was missing was her own skill. Very carefully, she drew Pipimi. She was standing slightly at an angle, a delicate balance between looking to the side and showing her face to the audience. Joining her was her miniature self-insert, who was punching her in the gut. A collection of shake lines amplified the effect.

"Hey! Hey!" Said mini-Popuko, right fist out-stretched.

Panel one was complete.

Now she had just had three more panels to do before the sun came up. Popuko stretched out her arms, cringing as she heard a satisfying crack. Even if this killed her, she would go to hell with a smile on her face.

_Now, let the madness begin…_

* * *

When Popuko woke up the next morning, she felt like she had been dragged down to hell. Her body felt like it was weighed down with iron and her eyes stitched shut. She rose her arm to the ceiling, only for it to fall like a rock beside her. As she struggled, there was the sound of constant beeping. It wasn't until she heard an angry voice from downstairs that she realised where she was. Somehow, she had managed to crawl into bed at god knows when in the morning. Her eyes were glued shut by a thick layer of rheum and her body seemed to have attached itself to the mattress. The constant beeping was her much-abused alarm clock. She had overslept and was now ten minutes late for school.

_Oh crap…_

Rubbing her eyes free of mucus, Popuko stumbled over to her desk. Still dizzy from fatigue, she placed a hand on her table. Her hand met with the sharp edge of paper.

_Please, please, please…_

Focusing her eyes, she stared down at the white rectangle. It was finished. Her hours of hard work had been worth it!

Another angry cry from her downstairs. Her mother was screaming at her to hurry up.

"For god's sake! I'm coming!" She roared.

Leave it to an adult to spoil her moment of glory.

* * *

To Popuko's surprise, the gods had shown her the slightest bit of mercy that day. Somehow, she had managed to survive a full morning of classes without dropping down dead. And she had only fallen asleep once! She did little work that day, her eyes constantly checking the clock. Every movement of the hand brought lunchtime a little bit closer. Pipimi's harem kept her busy during between-class breaks but at lunchtime, she would pounce like a famished lion. She'd be damned if anyone dared to spoil her plans!

The moment the bell rang, all fatigue left Popuko's tiny frame. With inhuman speed, she raced over to Pipimi's table and banged her hands on the desk.

"I need to talk to you, now!" She commanded.

"And good afternoon to you, too, Popuko."

As always, Pipimi's smile was small but genuine. Her eyes shimmered in the sunlight, only to wrinkle with concern. "Are…Are you OK?" She asked, gesturing towards the smaller girls' eyes.

Popuko had hoped that she wouldn't notice the bags. But unfortunately, when said bags felt like they were weighing down her face and almost reached her cheeks, it was hard to hide them.

"I'm fine…" Popuko insisted, mid-yawn. "Now, please… Have lunch with me. I have something to show you!"

The elder girl rolled her perfectly blue eyes. She stood up from her desk and removed her schoolbag from the chair.

"Alright, lead the way."

Popuko grinned like an excited toddler and wobbled over to her desk. After gathering her bento box, she and Pipimi marched from the classroom. The smaller girl could feel the cold stares of her classmates, most likely wondering how someone like her got to eat with the class goddess.

Well, serve them right.

* * *

It wasn't long before the two of them were tucked in Popuko's hidey-hole under the stairs. It was a little cramped and rather dark, the only light coming from the window at the other end of the hall. But on the plus side, it gave them a lot of privacy. It was almost as if the two were hidden from the world in their own little bubble.

"So, what was it you wanted to show me?" Pipimi asked.

Popuko nearly choked on a mouthful of rice. Now was the moment of truth. The moment where she would either gain a friend for life or be laughed out of school. Right now, both options seemed equally possible.

"R-Right, I'll just get it!" She said, reaching into her backpack.

Out came the piece of paper, snuggled within a clear folder. Pipimi took it with both hands as if it were a business card. That just added to the already immense pressure. Popuko quickly leant over her reader's shoulder to observe her reaction.

The first panel showed Popuko punching Pipimi in the stomach, just hard enough to make her shake.

"Are you upset?" Popuko asked in the next panel.

"I am not upset," Pipimi replied.

The third panel showed a near-identical punch to the first. Once again, Pipimi barely shook.

"Are you upset?"

Once again, Pipimi's answer was a simple "I am not upset."

Back in the real world, Popuko looked over at her friend. Pipimi was smiling at the comic, her hand pointing to her mini-me.

"That's me, isn't it?"

"Yup! Just like you, she never gets upset!"

The blue-haired beauty giggled and held the page close to her chest.

"Thank you, Pop-chan. I'll make sure to treasure this forever."

Popuko let out a little gasp as her face turned a bright shade of beetroot. Pipimi's words had somehow pierced through her skin and impaled her heart, spreading a deep sense of joy through her body. Maybe she didn't need everyone at school at her feet. Maybe all she needed was one person who understood her, who loved her art. Quality over quantity, after all.

"H-Hey... Pipimi-chan?"

"Hmm? What is it?"

" Do you think my art will ever catch on?"

Pipimi let her hand gently slide into Popuko's. Their hands entangled, she leant in close and said in a soft voice…

"It will catch on. I'm sure of it~."


End file.
